There was a high chance that he was going to die
out here. No guns, no ammo, no shelter...no home. Timothy
was shit on his luck down here on this damn planet with no
hopes of survival; or anything else for that matter.
He hadn't honestly expected to make it this far on what
little rations he had and his rusty scavenging skills. Maybe
he could put them to use and try and find things to sell or
barter. A N Y T H I N G to try and get enough money to at least
have a mat to sleep on instead of the ground, which wasn't
the most comfortable thing, especially at night.
He was growing D E S P E R A T E by now, praying to whatever
deity, real or not, that he'd somehow find maybe an ounce of L U C K
as he wandered down a quiet street. The cloak he wore covered
his face partially, which he felt was a good thing; wouldn't let anyone
recognize him right away, at least.
Unfortunately, it had become a bit of a pain when it came to walking.
He couldn't exactly S E E from under the heavy hood, well, nothing but
his feet and the ground that is. So when he quite literally S L A M M E D
into someone. His first reaction was to push the hood up ever so slightly
just so he could see exactly who he had practically stepped on. It was
honestly the exact opposite of what he had intended to do originally,
which was pull the thing down further and grovel out apologies.
